


The five kisses that stick with you

by Avidfangirlforlife



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avidfangirlforlife/pseuds/Avidfangirlforlife
Summary: The five time Waverly Earp kisses Nicole Haught. AU. Nicole's perspective.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 7
Kudos: 151





	The five kisses that stick with you

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I very much wrote for myself, after not writing for quite a long while. To anyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy!

The first time she ever kisses you, you feel your whole world spin and change, in a way that you can’t quite understand at the time. You’re ten years old and crying hard because you’ve just been punched in the gut by a boy a whole lot bigger than yourself, but even though you’re crying you already know that it was more than worth it. She was more than worth it. Waverly Earp. Your best friend and the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. The kindest and fiercest soul you have and will ever know.

When the two of you first met, on your first day of Kindergarten, something had clicked. You were so nervous on your first day that you uncharacteristically clung to your Mama’s hand. Every time she speaks about your first day of school, she remarks on how strange that detail was, because you were always so sure of yourself. So confident and outgoing.

You clung onto her hand tighter and tighter and hid behind her, refusing to move. As if hiding behind her would block out how scared you were. Nothing your Mama said to you could change your mind in the slightest. Nothing would get you to move. Your Mama also likes to comment on how like you that was. Stubborn through and through. Nothing would make you let go. That is, until a little girl wearing a white dress with pastel coloured flowers printed on it approached you, wearing a beaming grin and radiating warmth. Even at five, Waverly Earp radiated sunshine, you would swear to it.

She asked you if you wanted to come and colour unicorns with her. She offered to share her new crayons with you. And just like that, you were smiling and letting go of your Mama’s hand and waving goodbye. And just like that, you and Waverly Earp became inseparable. In that moment, she became your best friend.

The first time your best friend kisses you, the two of you are at the park after school one day and you are ten years old. You’re both still children. It’s well before the age of crushes and hormones. When the other girls at school talk about boyfriends and kissing, the two of you roll your eyes in disgust. The thought of kissing a boy makes you crinkle your nose. Absolutely not.

The two of you are sharing a swing, pushing each other back and forth, giggling helplessly when you fly a bit too high, stomachs fluttering at the thought of being unseated. A group of boys much older than you enter the park, and one of them approaches you and demands your swing. The two of you give up your swing, even though the boy wasn’t very polite about it and could have just asked nicely, because neither of you wants to get into an argument with these boys.

As you start to leave, the boy starts to follow the two of you. Swaggering along behind you, his friends watching him and egging him on, he calls out some very rude things at Waverly that you only understand because you’re not an idiot and you have 6 older brothers. 

You’re not quite sure what happens next. You remember seeing red and turning around to confront the rude boy behind you. Then, you remember awful pain and tears and gasping for breath and falling back on your butt as the boy’s meaty hand punches you in the stomach. 

When you can breathe again you look around and find Waverly stood over you, tears streaming down her pretty face (even at 10 you knew she was the prettiest girl you had ever seen) concern in her eyes. The boys are nowhere to be seen. Of course. You know your brothers will kick their asses if they find them. Especially Derren. 

She asks you if you’re okay and offers you a hand up. Gingerly, you accept, and she hauls you to your feet. When you’re up, you find that she’s staring up into your face. At ten, you’re already tall. You often find yourself thinking that you would give anything to be small and dainty and graceful like Waverly. Instead, you’re tall and clumsy. So, when she looks at you, she always looks up into your face. 

For a moment, she just stands and stares at you, her brow slightly furrowed into her thinking face. You find yourself wondering what she’s thinking about. You stand there, puzzling it out in your mind, and it takes you a second to register that she’s standing on her tiptoes so that her face is level with yours. 

Again, you find that you can’t quite work out what she’s doing. This isn’t something that has ever happened before. Ever. Then, her lips brush lightly against your cheek, which is smeared with dirt. It only lasts for a second, and even as you blink she’s pulling away and thanking you for standing up for her.

As you stand there, staring straight ahead, you can feel something inside you changing. You’re not quite sure what it is, or what’s happening, or why your heart is racing, or why your brain is moving at a mile a minute, or why your world feels like it’s spinning and crashing and expanding all at the same time. But you know that it is.

Your best friend kisses you for the first time, a brush of lips against your cheek, and it sends you reeling.

*

The second time your best friend kisses you, you are fourteen and everything has changed. Not between the two of you, of course, because that could never happen, but everything else.

In the four years between the first time she kisses you and the second, you find that you have discovered a lot about yourself. Firstly, you have come to the realization that you like girls. In the way that most girls your age like boys. When you think about kissing and crushes and romance, you don’t find yourself picturing a boy with a six pack and white teeth and a ‘killer’ smile. You’ve tried, because of course you have, you would give anything to be normal, but every boy tends to morph into a girl.

Your second discovery, following on from the first, is that the girl the boy of your fantasies always morphs into is Waverly. The first time that it happened you freaked yourself out and found yourself shaking and unable to breathe. You found yourself confused and ashamed and feeling like you had betrayed your best friend. It feels both wrong and right to you and you find yourself feeling guilty. You try not to think about her in that way, but you suppose it doesn’t work that way.

You think you must be in love with her. You know you love her. Of course you do, she’s your best friend and you know she loves you too. But not like that. She doesn’t think about marrying you and having a family with you. You imagine having the sort of life with her that your brother Brandon has with his wife Laura. You imagine getting married and having children. Coming home to her after a long day. You think it must be real, true love. You often find that you get really sad and cry, thinking about how you’ll never have the life that you imagine. Not with Waverly. Not with anyone.

You know what they call people who love woman who love women. Lesbians. That isn’t something you want to be. You’re not sure what your Daddy would think about it if he was still alive. But you find yourself thinking that maybe that is what you are. Maybe you are a lesbian. You don’t think your Mama would mind. You don’t think Waverly would care. Unless she knew that you were in love with her. Then she maybe wouldn’t want to be your best friend anymore.

You can’t even think about that. You won’t ever let that happen.

The second time she kisses you, the two of you are fourteen and you are at a sleepover at Chrissie’s house. You don’t really want to be there. These girls are Waverly’s friends, not yours. They’re silly and giggly and all they talk about is make up and boys. Which isn’t a problem if that’s what they want to talk about, but it makes you uncomfortable.

Talking about boys, and pretending to be something you’re not, sets you on edge. You’ve found that you can’t relax around these girls. You think they might smell weakness if you relax. And you can’t have that. Maybe they already know.

Normally, when Waverly and Chrissie and Jen and Kathy hang out, you steer clear. You keep yourself busy with practicing self-defense with your brother Matt, or running track, or going to the gym. Anything to not have to hang out with these girls. Chrissie and Jen are nice enough, but Kathy is mean. You can feel it.

Waverly had practically begged you to be at this sleepover though. You’re not sure why. Apparently, Chrissie had invited her, and Waverly wanted you to get to know her other friends better. She’d asked you and looked at you in this one particular way. It was a look calculated to get a reluctant ‘yes’ as an answer. Because she might not be aware of how you feel about her, but she sure knows the effect she can have on people.

So, on a Friday night in the September of your freshman year, you find yourself seated next to Waverly on a blanket in Chrissie’s parents’ basement. Chrissie’s dad works under your Mama on the force, which makes being in his house even more awkward for you. 

The girls pass hours talking about boys and their crushes. Blushing and giggling, they take turns to admit who they have crushes on. When it gets to Waverly, she blushes scarlet and clams up. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch her, trying not to frown. You didn’t know she had a crush on anyone. You can feel yourself hoping, the longer she takes to speak, that somehow it will be your name coming out of her mouth. You wait, holding your breath.

It’s not. After another second, she blurts out the name ‘Champ Hardy’. You have to sit there and act happy for her, as a best friend should be, even as your world breaks into a million little pieces. The conversation seems to go on for hours. Never ending. She talks about Champ. Champ this, and Champ that. You think, of course. Champ is so great, because Champ is an empty-headed boy. He’s popular and on the football team and tall and handsome with a killer smile. He’s the next big rodeo star of the town.

You know you’re jealous and you shouldn’t be. You’re also happy for Waverly, as her best friend should be. But your world still feels like it’s breaking into tiny shards. Who knew life could be so fragile?

Somehow, the evening moves onto a game of dares. You’re not really paying attention. Later, you suspect that it was the suggestion of that bitch Kathy. It definitely was. You end up spending hours playing, and you avoid truth like it’s the plague. Because you don’t want them to be able to ask you questions. If you lie, Waverly will know. Waverly always knows. She knows you too well.

It’s Waverly’s turn and for the first time she picks a dare. You see Kathy smirk a little and you’re not sure what’s coming but somehow you have a feeling that it’s something bad. Or, at least, something not good.

Then, both the best and the wort sentence that could have possibly been uttered was spoken. Kathy, with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, announced to the room:

“We dare you, Waverly, to kiss Nicole.”

At those words your mouth went dry, your stomach knotted itself tightly and your heart thumped all the harder in your chest. Waverly looked at you, eyebrows raised in a question. You nodded slightly, because the idea of these girls crowing at Waverly backing out of a dare wasn’t something you wanted to witness. And you wanted to kiss her. The problem was, you wanted her to want to kiss you. You didn’t want it to happen as a dare.

You wanted the kiss. But not like this. 

The girls watched you from around the circle, excitement gleaming in their eyes. Watching to see what would happen next. You didn’t want it to happen here, in front of them, but there wasn’t much of a choice. You knew Kathy well enough to know that, if you didn’t kiss Waverly, rumours would be all over school about you by Monday.

Taking a shaky breath, you turned to Waverly. She smiles at you; in the soft and reassuring way she always does when she knows you’re nervous. She leans in, places her hand on your shoulder. You can feel her breath lightly on your skin and it reminds you of when you were ten and in a park one day after school. She smells like she always does. Of flowers and sunshine and warmth. You can’t believe this is happening.

Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. You find yourself feeling sick. She leans further forward and her lips brush against yours lightly, and then more firmly, just for a second. It’s quick, and the other girls are hooting and cheering the two of you on. Nausea builds inside you, even as your skin tingles from the contact.

It wasn’t how you dreamed it would be. Not even close.

Soon enough the game ends and you all settle down to sleep. You wait for everyone’s breath to even out, wait until your sure everyone else is asleep, and then you creep your way along the hall to the bathroom. You lock yourself in and lower yourself to sitting position, leaning against the bathtub. 

You let yourself feel everything you’ve been holding back. You let yourself cry and cry and cry. 

The second time your best friend kisses you, it is when you are fourteen. You’re already in love with her and it hurts more than you ever thought it could. You think about the feeling of her lips on yours for months afterwards. It sends a twinge of pain through you every time someone mentions the kiss, but that doesn’t stop you thinking about it when you’re alone. 

*

The third time your best friend kisses you, it is different once again. This time the two of you are seventeen and you are much more sure of who you are. You’re gay and you are very proud of who you are. You’ve been out for almost a year. Your Mama was super supportive when you told her, and so was Waverly.

However, one thing that you find hasn’t changed at all is how you feel about your best friend. Your love for her is as constant as always. After all this time you are convinced that she is the one for you. Your love for her has never wavered, not since you were ten years old and her lips brushing against your cheek sent your whole world spinning. 

Sometimes, it still feels like the world is spinning. You know you’re not the one for her. It doesn’t matter that you could love her right and make her happy for the rest of your lives. It doesn’t matter that you know her better than anyone else does. It doesn’t matter that you know her better than you know yourself. Because she isn’t yours to love, not in that way. She is your best friend, and that is more than enough.

Still, it hurts to see her with an asshole like Champ Hardy. You know that she deserves so much better than that derogatory, chauvinistic pig. He fills you with rage, because he has no respect for your best friend. For two and a half years you have had to watch him treat her like an object. And listen to her gush about their first kiss and their first time and their first ‘I love you’. 

And it isn’t that you’re jealous, or not really. If she was with someone who respected her and made her happy, then you could accept it and be happy for her. But she isn’t happy. Over the past two and a half years you’ve dried too many of her tears to believe that. You know that your best friend deserves better than the likes of Champ Hardy. Even if that someone will never be you.

So, one day in the middle of senior year, when you get a call from Waverly in tears, you resign yourself to the pep talk you’re going to have to give. You head over to her house, bringing with you tissue and chocolate and the vodka that your brothers bought for you, that your Mama definitely does not know you have. She might just kill you if she knew.  
And when you arrive, she flings herself into your arms and it strikes you that she is far more upset about this than normal. Through the tears, the story comes out and you find yourself fighting to suppress your rage. Even so, you find yourself seeing red. You could definitely take the likes of Champ Hardy, muscled bull that he is.

After her study group, she’d headed over to his house to surprise him. His Mom had let her in. She’d headed upstairs to his room, only to find him naked, in bed, with none other than Kathy. The evil bitch. Apparently, Waverly had ended things and left and called you immediately.

As you hold her in a fierce embrace, trying to take the pain away and protect her from the rest of the world, you vow to get revenge on Champ Hardy. How could anybody be enough of an idiot to let Waverly go? If Waverly was yours, you know that you would hold on tightly to her. You’d only let her go if she asked you to.  
In the meantime, before you can focus on getting revenge, you focus on making your best friend feel better. Or, in the very least you focus on helping her channelling her wallowing. You proffer tissues and chocolates and vodka. The two of you then proceed, in true teenage fashion, to get increasingly and incredibly drunk.

Somehow, the world seems like a brighter place for the two of you when you’re drunk. The two of you are giggling away, acting like you’re children again, when Waverly suddenly focuses her attention to a spot on your cheek. She reaches out towards your face and brushes two fingers against one particular spot. You find your eyes closing at the feeling of her touching you, revelling in it. You find that it’s harder to control yourself when you’ve been drinking. Your eyes open, and you find her staring at you, her brow furrowed in just the way it used to when you were children. 

All of a sudden, her brow unknits itself and her eyes focus on you. She looks much less drunk than she did before. She speaks, so softly that you find yourself straining to hear her.

“Do you remember when we were ten and you stood up for me against that guy? He punched you in the stomach, and we both cried and then I kissed you on the cheek. I remember the exact spot I kissed, because it made my lips tingle so much. At the time, I thought it was the dirt on your cheek that made it happen. But I felt it again when we kissed.”

You can’t speak, because you’re not sure what it is she wants you to say. Of course you remember. How could you ever forget? Every touch is imprinted on your mind. They will be with you for your entire life. You nod instead and close your eyes for a second to try and steady yourself. 

When your eyes open, you find that she is much closer to you than she was before. Her eyes are once again focused on your face. She doesn’t speak again, but starts to slowly lean in, as if she is trying to give you time to move away if you want to. You don’t want to. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the words she’s just spoken, or maybe you want to take a chance. Whatever it is, you don’t move away.

And then her lips are on yours, more sure than they have ever been in meeting yours before. She moves closer to you as her lips move against yours. One hand moves to hold your face, fingers stroking along your jawline and the other comes up and tangles itself in your hair. Somehow your hands are holding her as well, one hand moves to her waist and the other to the back of her neck. Guiding your heads together more firmly. You pull her closer to you, closer than you ever knew you could be in this sense, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat that is enough to push all rational thought out of your head.

The two of you kiss until you cannot breathe, and then some more. You kiss her as though this is the first and the last time you will ever get to. You kiss her and it is better than you had ever dreamed it would be. 

Eventually, kissing turns into caresses and then the two of you are cuddling. The way you have a thousand times before. She cuddles into you in a way that is entirely new to you though. It feels like home and your heart expands in your chest, filled with love for the girl in your arms.

The third time your best friend kisses you, you’re not sure exactly what it means, but you are sure it means something. In the morning, you know the two of you will need to talk. There will be a lot to discuss and sort out. But you feel sure that it will be good. No part of you had ever expected this, but you find yourself giddy thinking about it. 

Suddenly, the world seems brighter. And like it is full of endless possibilities. You feel as though you could hold up the sky. You think it must be love.

*

The fourth time your best friend kisses you isn’t actually the next time she kisses you, because there are many hundreds of thousands of kisses in between these kisses, but this is a kiss that you know will stick with you in painstaking clarity for the rest of your lives. It comes on a day that is one of the most important of your life, and it is a day that you have been planning for years.

The fourth time your best friend kisses you, it is the day you asked her to marry you. It is a day that you had spent no less than two years planning and every detail of it had gone perfectly. Even if you do say so yourself.

First, you had surprised Waverly with tickets away to Vermont, the first place you went away on a break to together (back in the days of college). Then, you had booked a room at a cosy and intimate inn with an attached spa, the perfect place to spend a romantic weekend. You made sure not to propose on or near your anniversary, so that Waverly would not suspect what was coming. Next, you ran her a relaxing bath with the radio, a book and a glass of wine (the perfect Waverly combination) so that you could set the plans. And finally, you had set up a scavenger hunt for your girlfriend to follow.

You were, of course, waiting at the end with a ring for her to find. And, of course, she had solved the puzzle you spent hours making in no time at all. When she arrives, breathless, you are already on one knee, running over your speech in your head with the ring in your hand at the ready. You have planned exactly what to say and how you want to say it. You want to tell her how beautiful she is and how she feels like home, like a safe space. How she is your best friend and means more to you than any other person in the world. How she is your soul mate.

You know that she already knows all of this, but it builds up well to asking her to be your wife.

When she sees you, on one knee, she cancels out any speech you have prepared in a single moment. She runs at you, bowls you over (landing on top of you) and breathes out a breathless “Yes” as she kisses you. She kisses you with everything she has. It leaves you both breathless and flushed.

Reverently, you take the engagement ring from its box and place it on her finger. She kisses you again. 

The fourth time your best friend kisses you, she has agreed to be your wife, and it is one of the most beautiful and breath-taking moments of your life.

*

The fifth time your best friend kisses you, or the fifth time she kisses you that you know will never leave you, is on your wedding day.

As a teenager, you never dreamed you would have this moment. You never dreamed that you would be able to fall in love with your best friend and have her fall in love with you in return. You never would have guessed, at fourteen, that your breaking heart would be giddy with love just thirteen years later, at 27, watching your best friend walk down the aisle towards you. You never would have guessed that, eventually, every spilt tear would be worth it for the tears you shed on your wedding day.

The two of you speak your vows to one another, and you make a promise to your best friend, the woman who will soon be your wife.

“I promise to strive to make you happy always and to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

It is the most important vow to you, because it is one that you promised to always fulfil if you were given the chance, ten years ago. And now that chance is yours. It is a vow you have already been fulfilling for ten years. And now it is a solemn promise that you will strive to fulfil for the rest of your lives.

The ceremony ends with a long-held tradition. The newlyweds kissing. The fifth time Waverly Earp kisses you, it is 17 years after she first kissed you. 

The fifth time Waverly Earp kisses you she is your wife.


End file.
